


Fix this

by Halevetica



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gabriel's a dick, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nobody Dies, Not A Happy Ending, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-08 03:57:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20303182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halevetica/pseuds/Halevetica
Summary: Azirapahle falls because of Crowley and he can't take it.





	Fix this

Six thousand years. It had taken Aziraphale and Crowley six thousands years to come to this moment.

Crowley's hand cupped the angel's cheek, their breaths mingled closely between them as they fought for air. Their lips both red and swollen from the kiss, they'd just shared.

"Angel," Crowley breathed out, his forehead falling to Aziraphale's.

The angel, whose hand was currently tangled in Crowley's firey red strands, nodded in silent agreement. An agreement of, this took too long. In agreement of, this is what we both want. An agreement of mutual love.

"We should celebrate, anywhere you wanna go," Crowley pulled back, his thumb caressed Aziraphale's cheek.

"I think that's a splendid-" Aziraphale's words were cut off. His hand slid from the demon's hair.

"Angel?" Crowley frowned at the sudden tension in the principality's body.

Aziraphale dropped to his knees then a strangled cry ripped from his throat.

"Aziraphale," Crowley fell to his knees next to the hunched over angel. "What's wrong? What is it?"

A ripping sound filled Crowley's ears making him freeze in place. He knew that sound. That memory was engraved in his mind like it had been carved into it with a sharp blade.

"No, no, no, angel, look at me," Crowley lifted Aziraphale's chin so the angel's eyes met his.

"C-Crowley, what's-" Another strangled cry tore from his trembling lips. He gripped at the sleeve of Crowley's jacket with a desperation the demon could taste.

The scent of sulphur surrounded them in a thick cloud.

Realization seemed to hit the angel causing his eyes to widen in horror.

"This can't be happening," Crowley shook his head. This was a bad dream, that's all it was, a bad dream.

"Crowley, I don't want to fall. I-" Another cry ripped through Crowley's heart as the tearing sound grew louder.

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into his arms as if he could hold his grace in place by sheer willpower. The tearing sound was everything angelic being ripped from his angel.

"It hurts," Aziraphale cried out, his grip tightening on Crowley's arm.

"I know, love, I know. I'm so sorry," Crowley felt tears sting his eyes as he held the angel tighter.

One more strangled cry and the angel went limp in the demon's arms. Crowley couldn't hold back the tears any longer. A broken sob filled the now eerily quiet room of the bookshop.

Crowley pressed his lips to the top of the angel's head.

Aziraphale stirred then.

"Angel?" Crowley asked with a hopeful lilt in his tone.

Aziraphale looked up his eyes meeting Crowley's.

A whimper fell from the demon's lips at the sight. What used to be the angelic blue green color was now a demonic dark blue with a bright blue iris. It would be creepy if it were on anyone other than Aziraphale but on the innocent once angel Crowley only saw softness.

Aziraphale pulled from Crowley quickly as if suddenly realizing he was in the demon's arms.

"I...you..." Aziraphale looked down at himself as if he was processing something.

"Was this your plan all along?" Aziraphale asked, a harshness in his tone Crowley had never heard before. "Make the innocent angel fall for you?"

"What? No, of course not, I-"

"Did you know this would happen?"

"No, I-I-I-I had no idea," Crowley shook his head, not bothering to stand back to his feet, not that he was sure they'd even hold him. "Angel, please, I-"

"I'm not an angel anymore," Aziraphale snapped but his voice broke in a way the made Crowley's heart seize.

"I can...I can fix this...just...give me a chance to-"

"Fix this? You can't...you're unforgivable. How can you fix this? I'm ruined," Aziraphale's tone was no longer harsh but sad and full of disappointment.

"You forgive me though, don't you?" Crowley pulled himself to his feet, desperation the only thing pushing him off the floor.

Aziraphale gave the demon a sympathetic look.

"I want to but..."

"But you're not an angel anymore. You can't look past my faults and love me despite them," Crowley nodded, this was his worst nightmare come to life.

"I feel so... angry," Aziraphale looked genuinely torn. Like it physically hurt him to say these things.

"I'm so sorry, ang-Aziraphale," Crowley corrected himself.

"I wish I could say that made it better, but I just want you to go," Aziraphale frowned down at his feet.

Crowley wanted to reach out and plead with the angel but he wasn't an angel anymore and he wasn't his Aziraphale.

"I'm gonna fix this, I swear it."

"Just go," Aziraphale spoke more sternly but just as sadly.

When Aziraphale looked up Crowley was gone. He sighed with relief. He didn't want to hate the demon truly, but each memory he tried to grasp, to find the love he had felt before, slipped away as if carried off in the wind, leaving no remnants behind.

He was forgetting.

-

Crowley stood at the entrance to Heaven, staring up with tears in his eyes.

"God, if you're listening, please undo this."

"What's the matter, you don't like the new and improved Aziraphale? Or I guess I should call him Abraxas now," Gabriel's voice spoke up behind Crowley then.

"You. You did this to him. How could you? He was good. He-"

"Ah, ah, ah, you're pointing your finger at the wrong person," Gabriel shook his head. "You did this to him. Too selfish to remain friends, you had to push him. All those years of keeping you at bay and you kept on pushing. This is what happens when you push too hard. They fall. You had to see this coming. It's what you wanted isn't it?" Gabriel smirked as if pleased with himself.

"No. Now undo it," Crowley demanded. His hands shook at his sides and his voice waivered with fresh tears.

"I'm sorry but it can't be undone."

"Bullshit. The Almighty can do anything."

"And why would The Almighty help you?" Gabriel sneered.

Crowley wondered how the Archangel hadn't fallen. He was one of the least angel like angels he'd ever met. How is it that this horrible excuse of an angel got to keep his halo while a genuinely good angel like Aziraphale was forced to fall?

"I'll do anything," Crowley pleaded. Demanding wasn't getting him anywhere and he was desperate.

"Anything?" Gabriel smiled maliciously.

"Anything," Crowley knew how much Aziraphale loved being an angel. Helping people. The miracles he got to bestow on those in need, it was what made Aziraphale, well, Aziraphale.

"Even stay away from him?" Gabriel rose a perfect brow in question.

Crowley's stomach knotted.

"If you promise to never talk to him again, I'll guarantee his return to heaven. He'll wake up not knowing you ever existed and the last few hours will never have happened. But the second you say a single word to him. He'll fall, for good."

Crowley's heart broke just thinking of never seeing the angel again. Never hearing his laugh. Never listening to rambles of poetry and literature. Never seeing how excited he gets over a freshly baked cake.

Gabriel smirked at the demon's silence. "I didn't think so," he turned to leave.

"I promise," Crowley blurted, his voice cracking as he did so.

Gabriel turned back around with a surprised look.

"Just fix him."

Gabriel snapped his fingers. "Done."

-

Aziraphale woke on his couch with a strange headache and a sore throat. It was an odd thing to wake up at all. He'd never fallen asleep before and he'd definitely never had a headache or a sore throat.

He sat up and looked around. Something felt off, wrong somehow. He felt a tingling in his back and with a shiver his wings manifested. Their brilliant white feathers stretched across the tiny shop.

He inspected them carefully. Nothing seemed to be wrong there, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing or that he was forgetting something.

Perhaps he'd had too much wine. The two glasses and empty wine bottle suggested maybe he hadn't been drinking alone, but he was sure he'd remember having company. He didn't tend to keep company though. He tried to dismiss it but the nagging remained.

Crowley peered through the window shop to see Aziraphale's wings in all their angelic brilliance. A sob of relief fell from his mouth.

He already missed him. He didn't even get to say goodbye. This would have to be it. For all of eternity.

"I'm so sorry, angel," he whispered into the glass, tears falling down his cheeks faster than he could catch them.

Aziraphale would never know of Crowley's sacrifice, and Crowley would never know about the constant nagging of feeling not quite whole, that now followed the angel.

In the end heaven and hell had won after all.


End file.
